


Pieces

by Toejones



Series: Remembering [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 1920s, Amputation, Angst, Arguing, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extremis Pepper Potts, Fights, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healing, Hug it out fellas, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Medical Procedures, Memories, Memory Loss, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Not Age of Ultron Compliant, Orphanage, Parent Death, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Wrestling, could be gen could be m/m, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2026818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toejones/pseuds/Toejones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not the same,” Bucky whispered. “They took all of him outta me. I’m just- I’m pieces. I’m all wrong, Steve. I feel like this patchwork of half-remembered moments and I… How can you not hate someone wearing your friend’s face?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long wait, you guys. I was on a trip.

There was a drawn out chime as the doorbell sounded. Steve peeled himself off the couch, leaving the TV on, and opened to door to find Pepper juggling a briefcase, a grocery bag, two cups, and a white box with a pink ribbon wrapped around it.

“Pepper!” he greeted brightly. “Here, let me help you, come on in,” he took the grocery bag, one of the cups, and the box, and held open the door to let her in. He kicked it shut behind her.

“Surprise,” she greeted, turning once she was in the kitchen to smile at him. “How are you, sweetie?”

She’d come bearing gifts; lunch from the Jewish deli by Stark Tower in the bag and home-made cookies from Maria in the box (complete with a ‘ _Get Well Soon, Soldier! from Maria_ ♥’ scribbled hastily in sharpie on the lid). She was dressed primly in a pencil skirt and a flattering teal blouse from her morning at the office. Steve suddenly felt underdressed in his own apartment, still in his t-shirt and gym shorts from his late-start morning run three hours ago, and unshowered. His eyes were ringed darkly too, he knew, and he hadn’t shaved in something like three days.

 “You’re so good to me,” Steve gushed, avoiding her question. He set the food on the cracked kitchen table and wrapped his arms around her petite frame in a bear hug, hoping he didn’t smell too bad. He lifted her a little, making her laugh and swat at his arm. He put her down with a big grin. “And you? Are you just here to spoil me with kosher meats, or are you on business too?”

“Just to spoil you, I’m afraid. I’m not in New York as much as I’d like to be lately and I miss our lunch dates, so I figured I’d stop by with some sandwiches. Plus, these prototypes are proving stressful from a marketing standpoint. Tony wants to name the thing The Stark Industries Ultron, which is just… so Tony.”

“Ultron? Sounds like something from a comic book,” Steve laughed.

 “I know! The head of Marketing suggested Protectron or Adaptron, but honestly I think those are worse. Why all the ‘-tron’s?” Pepper grinned and shook her head. “Anyway, Maria baked these snickerdoodles for Bucky, and you know how amazing these things are, so I had to come by _today_ to avoid eating them myself. Sorry I didn’t call ahead.”

“It’s fine. Stick the cookies- yeah over there, or I’ll eat them too,” he smiled back as she shoved the cookies into the breadbox.

“Oh, and speaking of your guy, I wasn’t sure what he would want,” she said, taking a seat in one of the kitchen chairs and beginning to unpack the food, “so I got him brisket and pastrami.”

“Thanks, I’m sure that will be fine,” Steve said, swallowing at the mention of Bucky. He sat in the seat next to her and accepted the sandwich she handed him. He popped open the styrofoam box to find a triple-decker with extra cheese and a side of fries, and he felt his face split in a lopsided smile. Good old Pepper.

“You’re welcome… Where is he, by the way? Therapy today?” she asked, starting in on her own food.

“No, therapy is Fridays now. He won’t come out of his room is all,” Steve replied with a sigh, trying to force lightness into his voice and failing. He jerked his chin towards Bucky’s door down the hall and fiddled with the cheese sticking off his bread. He took a small bite and chewed, staring blankly at the door. “I think he’s hiding,” he added as an afterthought.

 “Aw, poor thing. Any reason why?”

“Nightmares, I think,” Steve said, looking back up at her. “The bad ones came back. I know, because I can hear him having them, but he won’t- He hasn’t come to me at all. He usually just gets up in the morning after he has one and goes about his day pretending he’s fine,” he sighed a long sigh and threw a hand out in frustration. “I don’t know what’s wrong today, but I don’t wanna push him by asking again. He threw his alarm clock at me this morning when I peeked in to say I made breakfast. Unless eggs and bacon suddenly offend him, I don’t know what I did.”

“I doubt it was anything,” Pepper replied with a delicate shrug of her shoulders. After a minute, she added, “I don’t know if Tony’s ever told you this, but he used to have these horrible nightmares about the fight with Loki.” She took a thoughtful bite of her coleslaw.

“No, he never told me that,” he creased his brow and took a big bite of his sandwich, trying to imagine Tony having a nightmare. It was hard to, and suddenly he felt guilty about that too. Some things made more sense now though, he thought as he chewed through a frown.

“Mmm,” she nodded and swallowed. “One night he had one so awful that he called his newest suit in his sleep by accident. It attacked me and we got into a big fight. That was right before the Mandarin Crisis.”

“Gosh,” Steve muttered. “I had no idea Tony was so…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Oh, he was,” Pepper sighed. “I mention it because he wouldn’t talk to me about the dreams either, at least at first. The nightmares took a lot out of him, so he avoided them by staying awake and building suit after suit. He had a really hard time of it for a while, wasn’t really himself. It might be the same way with your guy. Has he been really fixated on something lately?”

She was nearly done with her sandwich. Steve’s had only a few bites out of it. He chomped down on a huge bite and took his time chewing so he could think of an answer, running through the last few days in his mind. He washed it back with a gulp of coke and grimaced.

“No, not really. He insists on doing everything himself, though. That’s kind of a fixation, I guess- might be why he didn’t want my breakfast. But I think that has to do with the arm, not the nightmares. He’s had nightmares before and he’s never acted like this, so it has to be something else causing his attitude.”

“I’m sure losing his arm is causing the nightmares _and_ the change in mood.”

“You’re probably right… How’d you…” Steve hesitated, thinking of the right wording, “get rid of Tony’s dreams?”

“We didn’t,” she replied. “He still gets them sometimes. Never as bad, but I imagine it’s the time that’s passed aaand…”

Her palm began to glow from within, toasting her last tiny piece of bread, and Steve felt the heat across the small distance between them. He chuckled weakly and watched some smoke drift towards the ceiling. She put the blackened chunk down with a small laugh of her own. She shook her hand and some of the heat dissipated.

“He’s sure I can defend myself now. We took some of the causes of his anxiety away… but patience is key here, Steve. PTSD doesn’t just go away.”

“I know that,” Steve snapped. He turned red as soon as he heard himself, but Pepper just looked at him sympathetically.

“Sometimes people need reminding,” she said gently, putting an over-warm hand between Steve’s shoulder blades and rubbing gently. “I know I did.” He bent his back into the touch and took a breath to calm himself.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m just a little high-strung.”

“It’s alright, sweetie, I understand.”

“I mean… I still get nightmares, too. Nightmares I can handle, mostly, from both of us. I… It’s just so different with him. What happened to him. It’s nothing like what happened to me, or even to Tony. I try to understand, but it’s harder now since the surgery,” he paused to take another angry bite of his sandwich.

“Of course it’s harder,” Pepper reached out with a napkin to wipe something off his chin and he nodded gratefully.

“He’s doing swell considering everything, but recently it feels like he doesn’t want my help anymore and that hurts. He hasn’t talked to me about any memories since we left Florida and… He hasn’t… he hasn’t come to sleep in my bed since we got back, either. We usually share, just because it helps with both our nightmares, you know? It’s just so… unlike him.”

She frowned at him and put her drink down to take his hand. “Patience,” she repeated. “He’s lost an arm, and I don’t doubt he feels unbalanced more than physically. You’ve been so wonderful for him, Steve, don’t get discouraged by one instance of difficulty relating. He’ll find his balance again.”

“I… I know. And I don’t mean to crack up here. It’s just been a hard week,” he sighed and poked at his french-fries. He nibbled at one distractedly. “I _hate_ seeing him like this, Pep,” the resentment and helplessness he managed to squeeze into the one word was harsh even on his own ears. Pepper’s hand returned to his back and rubbed a little more firmly.

“Seeing me like what?” Bucky clipped suddenly from behind them.

Steve whipped his head around in surprise to find Bucky unsteadily standing by the torn up couch, bracing himself against the back of it with his hand. His face was pale and his eyes both looked like they’d been punched. His face was contorted into pure vitriol.

“How long have you be-”

“Seeing me like what?” he repeated, somehow sounding even angrier than he looked. “Seeing me as a monster?”

The words sent Steve reeling. He struggled to make sense of them for a second, staring at Bucky’s beet-red face.

 “Monst-? Bucky-”

“Seeing me broken?” he gestured at the small lump extending from his shoulder, still covered in bandages. “You _hate_ seeing me like this?”

Steve was flabbergasted. “Bucky, wha- _No_ -”

“You hate that you don’t see him!” Bucky shouted, taking a wobbly step forward. “You want him back- I _know_ you want _him_ back,” his voice broke in a way that pulled at Steve’s heart.

“Bucky, sweetie-” Pepper stood and stepped towards him beseechingly. He edged away, pressing himself against the couch like a cornered animal.

“I’m _not him_ \- and I won’t ever be him again. There are- he’s- … But if you _hate_ me,” he finally spat, “I should just leave.”

Steve stood the moment Bucky moved, but he was too shocked to do more than take an abortive step around the mug wall and watch as Bucky stormed to the front door. It slammed shut with so much force that the few remaining mugs wobbled ominously. One managed to topple and fall to the floor, shattering. Steve’s keys clanged to the floor after it, dropping from the shelf by the door.

“Pepper, I’m sorry, I,” he stammered as he raced into his room. He shoved on his shoes, hopping back out into the living room. Had Bucky been wearing shoes? He grabbed Bucky’s sandals from by the front door when he stooped to get his keys, just in case.

“No, no, go!” she nodded, wide-eyed.

He nodded back quickly, managed to get the heel of his second shoe on, and sprinted out the door.

 

_“Buuuuuckyyyyyy?” Steve called, glancing around the mostly empty street.  It was freezing and Steve was shivering even beneath his and Bucky’s coats combined over his shoulders._

_An older kid shoved past him, grumbling something about little kids blocking the stairs, but Steve paid him no mind. He scanned the street again, but from his height he couldn’t see much. He even tried it on his tiptoes from the very top step, staring out at the buildings under the darkening sky and shielding his eyes against the sharp glare of streetlamps. The icy pavement didn’t show any sign of a stupid kid in short sleeves._

_“You’re gonna get sick, Buck!” he yelled desperately._

_“Steve, hey Steve,” a voice behind him said, panting in exertion. It was Alex Granger. He was older, almost a teenager, but the other kids his age didn’t like him much, a lot like Steve’s age group didn’t like him. That stuck them together by proxy, and Alex was nice enough._

_“Hi Alex,” he said with a sniffle, blinking away tears in his eyes. Alex clapped a hand to his shoulder a touch too hard, almost sending him down the steps._

_“Why’d your pal do that, why’d he run outta there? Why was he in the office anyway, huh?”_

_“His ma,” Steve whispered. Alex’s face dropped._

_“No way, man, no way,” he said, more an exhalation than a sentence. “I knew it was weird to see him without ya. He’s checkin’ in?”_

_Steve nodded and shivered. “He cussed at Sister Helena after they took his brothers and she swatted his knuckles, so he bolted. I couldn’ catch him runnin’ and when I got out here he was all gone.”_

_“Shit,” Alex hissed. “Sorry! Didn’t mean it little guy, don’t go sayin’ that, but-_ shit _. What a curveball, poor fella. He’s gonna freeze his ass off if he gets caught in the snow dressed like he was, too. Poor fella.”_

 _“I_ gotta _find him!” Steve said, grabbing the bottom hem of Alex’s coat. “He’s all I got, Alex. And now I’m all he’s got.”_

_“I know, little guy, I know. I think he went that way, Tommy said somethin’ some crazy bastard in a t-shirt...”_

 

Steve found him in central park about a mile from their apartment sitting on the bench they rested at during their runs sometimes, unsurprisingly. Steve knew he couldn’t have gone far as unbalanced and tired as he was still feeling. To add to it, it turned out he hadn’t been wearing shoes when he left the house. His feet were probably sore after the hot pavement.

Bucky had them shoved in the grass almost shyly, but he was staring down like he was trying to burn a hole through the Earth. Steve sat heavily next to him, making sure to broadcast his presence by letting his footfalls get heavy. He was on Bucky’s left, praying he wouldn’t run if Steve had his vulnerable side and didn’t surprise him. He was lucky. Bucky just glanced over with a defeated, hurt look in his eyes and shuffled away a few inches.

Steve tossed the flip flops down at Bucky’s feet, pleased when he slipped his blackened feet into them. Bucky shifted around and crossed his arm over his body with a slight pout. He looked miserable. Steve let the silence stretch as long as he could bear it.

“You’re not broken,” Steve finally whispered in a rush, aware of the afternoon joggers and the mother with a stroller walking by giving Bucky strange looks. Subconsciously, he moved so he was leaning in front of Bucky a bit, shielding him from view.

“You said-” Bucky’s teeth were clenched.

“I know what I said,” Steve interrupted, “and I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s glare didn’t defrost a bit. “But you still said it,” he said, his voice thick like he wanted to cry. “You hate me like this.”

“I said I hate _seeing_ you like this.”

“Exactly!” Bucky yelled, scaring off a few pigeons and making the ladies walking across the way jump and pick up their pace.

“In pain,” Steve said lowly, “I hate seeing you in pain, Buck.” He took a long breath and held it for a second before letting it out. He placed a hand on Bucky’s bandaged shoulder.

Bucky winced and made to stand.

“Come on,” Steve pleaded, reaching behind Bucky to grab the back of his shirt. “Bucky don’t be like this. You’ve changed, sure, but you’re still my pal. We’ve had this talk.”

“We had this talk a year ago,” Bucky snapped. “When I was still so out of it you probably thought I could come back. Thought you could fix me, make me whatever you wanted me to be.”

“Never _fix_ you, never make you into what _I_ want,” Steve protested, trying to pour as much honesty as he could into his tone. “All I’ve ever done is try to help you get yourself back any way I can. I just want you to be happy!”

 

_“Bucky!” Steve yelped in relief, breaking into a dead sprint down the alley when he spotted the striped t-shirt against the bricks._

_Bucky was sitting outside the apartment that had been his home until that morning, full of things the government was no doubt going to collect and sell. The window was wide open and Bucky was sitting on the sill, leaning against the frame. He was holding something in his hands. He resolutely ignored Steve, but his shoulders stiffened, indicating he’d heard him. He scrambled to put whatever it was he’d had in his palm into his pocket as Steve tramped up the stairs to the third floor where Bucky was. He almost tripped trying to take two at a time._

_“Bucky, I was worried!” Steve chided as he reached the right level, yanking off Bucky’s coat and whipping it at his head. Bucky flung his hands up to block any buttons from hitting him in the face._

_“Scram, Steve,” Bucky mumbled. He glowered, but pulled the coat around his shoulders anyway. His cheeks were red with cold, and his eyes were bloodshot._

_“Why should I?” Steve demanded. He huffed and walked over to him, standing taller than Bucky this way and using that to try and be imposing. He crossed his arms and put out one hip like Bucky’s ma did sometimes when he was in trouble._

_“’Cause I said so. Get outta here,” Bucky hunched in on himself, hugging his knees. He sneezed._

_“You’re gonna get sick,” Steve grabbed his hand and pulled, surprised at how icy it was. Steve only managed to get Bucky to shift forward a little before he managed to wrestle his hand back. “Bucky, C’mooon!” he groaned, kicking at Bucky’s ankle. Bucky swatted weakly at his leg._

_“I said scram! I’ll be fine” he muttered, burying his head between his arms and knees._

_“You’re not that tough,” he pulled at Bucky’s wrist again._

_“Then I guess I’m gonna stay and freeze,” Bucky yanked his arm back again, stumbling Steve._

_Steve put his hands on his hips. “Don’ be that way. Come back to the home, Buck. It’s not funny anymore.”_

_“No!”_

_“Fine. Then I’ll just sit here and freeze too,” he shoved Bucky’s legs down to dangle and sat next to Bucky on the sill. He made sure he was pressed close enough that Bucky could feel every shiver that wracked his body. He’d feel bad about playing on guilt later. Bucky turned his head slowly, leveling a murderous glare Steve’s way._

_“You get your ass inside,” he hissed._

_“No,” Steve raised his eyebrows. “Not leavin’ you here.”_

_“You play dirty, Rogers. You’re a no-good, dirty-rotten punk,” Bucky growled, scrambling down and shoving his arms into the sleeves of his coat with more force than strictly necessary. He grabbed Steve’s sleeve, hauling him over roughly. He started to drag Steve off down the stairs with a scowl on his face, stomping so each step clanged._

_Steve beamed at him._

 

“Please come home,” Steve whispered, gently pulling Bucky back close to him.

 Bucky went with the movement grudgingly, but without much actual resistance. Steve moved his hand from Bucky’s wrist to his jaw, moving his head so they were looking at each other. Bucky huffed out air against Steve’s chin, and Steve knew he’d won when Bucky’s eyes softened their gaze a little.

“We can talk at home, okay?” Steve said.

 

_“This is to be your bed, James,” Sister Mildred said sternly, pointing to one of the beds in the room all the boys slept in. “Dinner is at 6:00 sharp. I expect you in the dining room and clean at five-‘til, tonight included. Baths are taken at 7:00, and bedtime is 8:00 for the boys under ten years of age. Wake up call is at 6:30 sharp for breakfast at 7:00 and lessons at 8:00. You’ll be given a more detailed list of rules in the morning. Steven, I expect you to help him get settled.”_

_“Yes ma’am,” Steve nodded earnestly, making sure he was standing straight. She nodded back curtly and turned on her heel to leave._

_“Oh,” she turned back around briefly, “and James, if you decide to run away again, you will not be welcome back.”_

_“My name’s Bucky,” Bucky protested weakly after her._

_“They think nicknames are evil or somethin’,” Steve sighed, sitting down on Bucky’s bed with a bounce. “You’ll get used to all that stuff she said.”_

_“I don’t want to!” Bucky yelled, drawing the attention of two bigger kids across the room. “I don’t wanna be James- I don’t wanna get used to it!” he was verging on hysterical._

_“Shhh, Bucky,” Steve said, standing back up. “It’s not so bad, I promise.”_

_“You’ve been here a year!” Bucky pushed Steve away. “And you didn’t lose anyone but your mama!” there were tears gathering in his eyes now. “I’m never gonna see Rebecca or the babies again, Stevie, I’m not- I’m_ not _!” he wheezed._

_Bucky’s siblings were young enough that they’d been adopted instantly by distant family who’d heard of Winifred’s death; barely a day after Bucky’s ma had passed. Bucky, at age eight, was too old to raise how they’d want, and they were too well-off to need someone to do chores, rendering him useless to them. His four-year-old sister had been shipped off to California with a cousin some-amount-of-times-removed. The seventeen-month-old twins (Bucky’s half brothers), Benjamin and William, were taken in by a rich great-aunt and uncle to Chicago. Bucky was denied the privilege to visit them by both adopting parties and left to live at St. Joseph’s in Brooklyn._

_Orphan paper trails were notoriously incomplete. Past what they told Bucky at the meeting that day, Bucky had no idea where they would be going, and would likely never be able to find them again. Steve had been there in the office as Bucky’s escort, and he didn’t think he could ever forget the sight of Rebecca screaming as she clung to Bucky’s neck and the big tears running down the twins’ faces when they were carried away over their new parents’ shoulders. Bucky had managed not to cry then, but Steve had never seen him so angry._

_“Shhh, Bucky,” Steve whispered, gripping his shoulders. “It’s okay, please don’ cry.” He pulled Bucky down to sit on the bed and sat with him, putting an arm around his shoulders._

_“I’m not cryin’!” Bucky snapped, belied by two fat drops rolling down his cheeks. They were followed by more and more until his face was soaked and salt-stained. He was valiantly keeping himself from sobbing out loud. “I- I’m too old to cry,” he added shakily, rubbing at his eyes with fists._

_“Do you ’member what you said to me when my mama died?” Steve asked. Bucky shrugged and sniffled loudly. The other boys in the room had left to give them privacy. They knew how these things went. “You told me that you were my family. That’s still true, right?”_

_“Y-yeah,” Bucky nodded. “But I- I just, I don’t-” Bucky’s lower lip trembled and he finally let out a sob and a pained wail, his shoulders shaking so hard the bed creaked beneath them. “I don’t wanna live here, Steve.”_

_“Me neither,” Steve sighed. “No one does.”_

_“It’s not_ fair _,” Bucky howled, his breath stuttering so hard in his chest that Steve was momentarily worried he was going to have an asthma attack._

 

“You said we were gonna talk!” Steve shouted, slamming a palm against Bucky’s door.

“ _You_ said we were gonna talk! I said nothin’ of the sort!” Bucky shouted back. Steve heard a zipper close and the window slam open. He felt his breath catch and his pulse jump into overdrive.

“Bucky, don’t leave again!” he yelled desperately, grabbing the doorknob and shaking it. “Don’t leave! _Please_ , Bucky, _please_ don’t leave me! Not again- I can’t, I can’t-”

 He pressed his forehead to the door and squeezed his eyes shut. Pepper was long gone, and he was glad she didn’t have to see this. There was silence for a long time and Steve felt tears start forming in his eyes. He slammed his hand into the door again with a low, pained sound clawing its way out of his throat.

“Why should I stay?” Bucky snapped, muffled through the door. Steve’s eyes shot open and his pulse jumped again.

“Why’d you come back?” Steve countered shakily, curling the hand against the wood into a fist. “Why’d you come back to the apartment with me? Why did you come back to me in the first place, after DC? Why’d you pull me out of the river?”

Steve stumbled forward as the door was wrenched open. Bucky was still strong despite his wounds and the top hinge bent with the force. Steve righted himself before he could slam his face into Bucky’s chest, feeling stupid now for not thinking to break the door down. Bucky’s eyes were red and narrowed dangerously. His shoulders were heaving and his fist was clenched hard enough around the doorknob to dent it.

“You know why,” he said, staring up at Steve with dark eyes.

“I do,” Steve agreed, snatching out and gripping the fabric covering his good shoulder and his collar, yanking hard enough to make Bucky flinch and let go of the doorknob. He drug Bucky back so he was in the hall more than the bedroom, anything to get him further from the window.

 

_“Bucky!” Steve hissed, “What are you doing up there?!”_

_“Runnin’ away,” Bucky replied, his silhouette shifting. Steve thought he could see Bucky’s knapsack on his back and his stuffed bear under his arm._

_Steve sat up and threw his covers off, kicking his legs over so his feet hit the floor. He shivered in the cold air drifting through the window above his and Bucky’s beds. Bucky’s legs were dangling from the sill. Steve grabbed an ankle._

_“The hell you are,” he snapped, using a phrase Bucky’s ma had coined (and probably had not meant to teach them). “Get down, you jerk.”_

_“No! I hate it here, Steve!”_

 

He was breathing into Bucky’s space and pressing bruises into the skin of his good shoulder, the closeness and pain making Bucky sneer. They were both still obviously one wrong comment away from bawling, though, and Steve’s grip was tight enough that Bucky would have to hurt them both to break it. Steve couldn’t find it in him to feel bad about the bruises yet, more focused on keeping him where he was and grounding him in the moment.

“It’s the same reason I went looking for you after the Soldier almost killed me,” Steve whispered. “It’s the same reason I let you stay in my bed after you attacked me because of a bad dream. It’s the same reason I gave up on the hellicarrier, and it’s the same reason I haven’t given up on you since then.”

“Let go,” Bucky snarled, his eyes swimming. He slammed his eyes shut and jerked in Steve’s hands, but Steve moved the hand at his collar to his jaw and held tighter. Bucky winced and glared murder at him. His breath was shaking, whether in anger or general upset Steve couldn’t have said.

He thrashed again, fingernails digging in and scratching at Steve’s arm. His knee came up in between Steve’s fast, forcing Steve to quickly change his stance to avoid being kneed in the crotch. He tangled their ankles in a hold Bucky had taught him himself and reestablished his grips on Bucky’s shoulder and jaw.

“No!” Steve shouted, right in Bucky’s face. “I am not letting you leave!”

 

_“If you go they won’ let you come back!” he tugged at Bucky’s knobby ankle; just a warning._

_“Ain’t you listenin’? I don’t_ wanna _come back!” Bucky tossed his free leg over to the other side._

_“You can’t go!” Steve gripped Bucky’s pantleg as hard as he could and pulled._

_“Yes, I can!” Bucky growled, yanking his leg away and catching Steve in the chin with his shoe. Steve yelped and stumbled back, but caught himself on the bed before he fell to the ground. There was going to be a hell of a bruise on his chin tomorrow, and his tongue was bleeding. “Shi-”_

_“Ow! Owww!” Steve was on the verge of shouting, almost as much in anger as in pain. There was a general noise of shifting and complaining around them as the other boys began to wake up._

_“Stevie, no no no, I didn’t mean it!” Bucky gasped, flinging himself down to the floor and stumbling over in the dark. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bucky stood stiffly with his hands in the air, not sure where to put them._

_“That really hurt,” Steve moaned, pressing a hand to his jaw and trying not to let tears well up in his eyes. He wiped a little blood off his lip and sniffled._

_“Stevie, I’m sorry,” Bucky was crying for him, it seemed. “I didn’t mean it, honest! I just wanna go- I wanna- They took my sister and they took my brothers and that nun smacked me and I hate them! I hate ‘em so much, and I got mad and I’m sorry! And now you’re mad- and you probably hate me! You should hate me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”_

 

“You can’t stop me!” Bucky snarled through clenched teeth, focusing on fighting the hold on his jaw the hardest, probably so he wouldn’t have to look at Steve.

“Where are you gonna go, huh?” Steve snapped.

“I’ll figure it out! I just don’t wanna be _here_!”

“You sound like a child!”

“ _You_ sound like a child!”

“Bucky, stop it! This is your home and you belong here. Running away isn’t going to fix anything! Just _talk_ to me!”

“Oh, home is with the guy that hates me? Awesome, just great! You sound just like the stupid SHIELD therapist. Fucking _talking_ fixes everything!”

“Oh, please. God damn it, Barnes, I already said I’m sorry! I don’t _hate_ you!”

“But you should!” Bucky shouted, kicking out and struggling for all his worth, bringing them both to the ground with how their legs were tangled. Steve slammed to the ground with the full weight of Bucky on top of him, the air leaving his lungs in a rush.

He grabbed at Steve’s hair and yanked, making Steve yelp. They rolled around a few times, Steve slamming his head into the doorframe. Bucky’s flip flops fell off one by one and he used his bare feet to gain traction on the hardwood floor.

“Is that what this is about?” Steve yelled as he winced. “ _Christ_ Bucky, ow!”

He grabbed Bucky’s wrist, trying to wrestle the clenched fingers out of his hair, all the while trying to avoid hurting Bucky’s left side. Their legs tangled and untangled over and over as they rolled and writhed. Bucky was a worthy opponent even down an arm, but that could have been the extra caution Steve was taking, too. Their knees smacked and their ankles hit the floor, tiny sharp pains distracting from who was trying to pin whom.

“You _want_ me to hate you?” Steve finally managed to gain the upper hand and straddled Bucky. He pinned him with a hand on his good shoulder and the other in the center of his chest, both of their breath coming in hard pants.

“I-” Bucky froze. His breath stuttered out of his lungs, Steve feeling it more than he heard it.

“ _Why_?” Steve asked desperately, his fingers fisting in Bucky’s shirt. All the fight went out of Bucky with that one word, his muscles going loose and his face dropping into exhausted misery. His head made a thud as it dropped down to the floor, defeated.

“Because,” he said quietly, “I… I came back all- wrong.”

 “Jesus, Buck,” Steve whispered, his hands both gentling a bit. “You didn’t come back _wrong_ , how could you say that…”

“I’m not the same,” Bucky whispered, darting his eyes away to stare at the ceiling behind Steve’s head. “They took all of him outta me. I’m just- I’m pieces. I’m all wrong, Steve. I feel like this patchwork of half-remembered moments and I… How can you _not_ hate someone wearing your friend’s face?” he said, voice breaking.

“You’re wearing your own face,” Steve insisted, smoothing out the fabric he’d wrinkled and moving his hand to cup Bucky’s jaw. He tilted Bucky’s face gently to look him in the eye. “You’re still at least partially that cocky little kid from Brooklyn who thought it would be a good idea to help a tiny, wheezing Irish boy up out of the sandbox… and you’re certainly whole otherwise,” he let his thumb drag over the fabric closer to Bucky’s left shoulder.

“I’m not, though. I don’t even remember that,” Buck’s lower lip wobbled. “There’s still so many gaps,” he pressed his shaking fingers to his head, and Steve let him, releasing the hold on his shoulder.

“You are. I would know, better than you at least,” Steve nudged Bucky’s ribs with his knees playfully, trying to spark a smile. Bucky’s lips barely twitched. “We were four, I’m surprised I remember it,” he added gently. He scooted back off Bucky’s hips and stood shakily, his knees aching and blooming with bruises and burns from the floor. He offered a hand down to Bucky, who took it. “You’re still getting memories back all the time and I don’t think you’re missing much more than the average joe at this point.”

 “I just- You know, I- I think it would be easier if you hated me. You’re so nice, you’ve always been so nice- You’re being nice _now_ , and you’re such a goddamn bleeding heart, Steve. You haven’t complained once and I’ve tried to- God, I’ve tried to kill you! Fuck, I just hurt you _again_ ,” he let go of Steve’s hand and used his fingertips to touch the scratches on Steve’s arm, the bump on his forehead. “I’m not supposed to hurt you- I’m, I’m supposed to protect you, right? If this doesn’t mean I’m broken then…”

“Bucky, no no no,” Steve felt his heart sink. He took Bucky’s hand from his arm and squeezed it. “How long have you felt like this?”

Bucky shrugged unevenly and blinked as a tear finally ran down his cheek. He thumbed it away idly, but Steve kept holding his hand. “The whole time, I think,” his laugh was bitter and hollow.

“Bucky, you can’t think like that,” Steve said. “You know deep down that you would never hurt me on purpose. You also know I could _never_ hate you. Right?”

“But I tried to, and you should-”

“That wasn’t you, that was the Soldier. Do we need to have the brainwashing / consent talk again?”

“…No,” Bucky sighed. That talk had been a lot like this one, only with less violence and screaming.  “But just now-”

“We were wrestling and we came out even,” Steve said, poking gently at a bruise on Bucky’s jaw from his fingers.

“But Steve, _why_? _Why_ are you sticking with me?” he was practically begging now.

“Because I… I… We made a promise a long, long time ago. Two promises, actually…” Steve swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Listen, you took care of me- _protected_ me- for almost twenty years, Buck, and I _always_ felt like a burden right up until the serum. Now it’s my turn to take care of you, and it’s not a surprise that it’s hard to get used to the role reversal. For both of us, I think. Please, don’t ever think about me hating you.”

 “Okay, I guess,” he agreed quietly, looking up at Steve through his wet eyelashes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be- just… Please don’t try and leave again. I- I don’t think I could handle life without you again, if we’re being honest,” Steve whispered, reaching out to put his arms around him.

He gathered him in close for a hug and Bucky let him. Steve pressed his palms down hard, one between his shoulders and the other low on his back. Bucky hesitated before setting his hand against Steve’s waist, his palm curving to the shape in an old, achingly familiar way.

“I will always want you around,” Steve said, only just audible.

 “I know the feeling,” Bucky muttered into his neck, rubbing his thumb against the ridges of Steve’s ribs.

 

_“Steve?” Bucky stage-whispered. There was a groan from a few boys around them. They were probably just getting back to sleep._

_Steve ignored them. “Yeah?”_

_“Can we share?” he felt Bucky’s hand pull back the sheets in front of him through the blast of cold air that hit him. The bed was small, way too small for two boys to fit comfortably. “I can’t sleep.”_

_“Yeah,” Steve said. He scooted until he was in danger of falling off. “Sisters are gonna be mad,” he added._

_Bucky squished himself in anyway and pressed his back to Steve’s chest, a reverse of how they would sleep on the couch before Steve had been taken to the home. Steve flung an arm over Bucky’s stomach and pressed close, appreciating the warmth again after almost a year. He pulled the covers back up to their chins and adjusted the pillow so they could share._

_“I don’t care,” Bucky whispered. At length, he added, “I’m really sorry.”_

_“It’s okay. You were mad. You didn’t mean it.”_

_“It’s not okay. You’re gonna bruise. I’m s’posed to keep you safe, not hit you.”_

_“It was a accident.”_

_“Still sorry,” he pressed closer and sighed deeply. “I won’t try and run again. Don’t know what I was thinkin’, tryin’ to leave you. I woulda broke our promise.”_

_“You can be a real dumb jerk sometimes,” Steve agreed, pressing his face into the back of Bucky’s neck._

_“End of the line,” Bucky mumbled into the pillow._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Foreshadowing and ~feelings~ abound.
> 
> Also, this should be the last installment in the whole "amputation arc", as I've dubbed it. We'll start to see some happier stuff happen, hopefully (Thank God- I'm emotionally drained).


End file.
